


Retirement Planning

by manic_intent



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Justice League (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Post-Canon, That post-JLA AU where Bruce decides to retire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:55:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23999341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: “I’m going to retire,” Bruce said when Clark landed beside him on the roof overlooking the docks.“From Wayne Enterprises?” That made sense. Bruce had become more hands-on with his company recently, and it’d been taking a visible toll. A man his age couldn’t keep burning the candle at both ends.“No.” Bruce made an impatient gesture. “As Batman.”Clark blinked. “Are you feeling all right? Maybe you should see a doctor.”
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 57
Kudos: 724





	Retirement Planning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Atanih88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atanih88/gifts).



> Prompt by Atanih88, who asked for Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Clark develops feelings for Bruce, happy ending. 
> 
> DCEU is my jam for Superbat ‘verse, so this takes place sometime after Justice League. I’ve been binge-watching Hannibal, so I had to concentrate not to have this become really dark by association haha.

“I’m going to retire,” Bruce said when Clark landed beside him on the roof overlooking the docks. 

“From Wayne Enterprises?” That made sense. Bruce had become more hands-on with his company recently, and it’d been taking a visible toll. A man his age couldn’t keep burning the candle at both ends. 

“No.” Bruce made an impatient gesture. “As Batman.” 

Clark blinked. “Are you feeling all right? Maybe you should see a doctor.” 

“What does that have to do with anything?” Bruce glared out at the city of light and shadow under his cowl, his arms folded over his chest. “I’m getting old, Kent. Slowing down. And I’ve been thinking. Maybe I can do more good as Bruce Wayne than Batman. I always could; I just didn’t want to see it.” 

“As a playboy?”

“As the owner of one of the largest companies in America. I’m want to restructure some of the things we do.” 

“Oh,” Clark said, thinking back. “This is about the wage strike.” There had been a union strike a day ago—picket lines around the Wayne Towers in three states, protesting pay and hours. Bruce hadn’t offered a statement. 

Bruce nodded tightly, his fists clenching over his arms. “I had no idea. Would you believe that? No fucking idea. That some of our lowest-paid employees are paid so little that they’re living paycheck to paycheck. Or worse. People were going bankrupt because the medical insurance we provide doesn’t cover their bills. Some saviour I am.” 

Clark nodded slowly. “Did you call me here just to tell me that?”

“No. I’m making arrangements for Gotham, but in the meantime, I’d like you to take over. Cover for me. Only for things that the police can’t handle, and feel free to prioritise if you have to.” 

“Arrangements? Training up a replacement?” 

Bruce’s mouth compressed into a thin line. “Life has shown me how something like that tends to work out. No.” He stared at the city, hands dropping to his side. “I’m starting to see crime and criminal psychosis as symptoms. Warning signs, if you will. The wage strike helped to show me that. The entire city is sick. Maybe the entire country.” 

“…Just to be clear,” Clark said, studying Bruce carefully, “this isn’t going to end up with you manufacturing weird biochemicals or something like that, is it?” 

Bruce glared at Clark. “Are you making fun of me?” 

“Given your city, our shared history, and the things I’ve already seen under your house, it’s a serious question. Sadly.”

Clark braced himself for fury, but Bruce threw back his head with a sharp bark of laughter. “That’s fair. No. Nothing of the sort.” 

“In that case, I propose a trade,” Clark said, offering Bruce a quick smile as Bruce frowned at him. “I’ll take care of your city for as long as you need me to. In exchange, I want exclusive interviews. Full press access to whatever you’re planning.” 

“You want to spend your day job stuck to my ass? Won’t be as fun as you think,” Bruce said. He sounded amused, not annoyed. “Sure. I love the press.” 

“I can tell when you’re lying,” Clark reminded him. 

Bruce smirked. “I’ll call you,” he said, and stepped off the edge of the roof. 

Alone, Clark shook his head. “And he claims he’s getting old.”

#

It took four interviews and five tours for Clark to let go of the niggling feeling that this was all part of some secret plan, some trap or scheme that Bruce was setting for some adversary. “No one has that much free time, let alone me,” Bruce said when Clark confessed this to Bruce over dinner.

Alfred had outdone himself. Freshly-baked sourdough with cultured butter and Sichuan salt, a spicy slow-cooked lamb shoulder with flatbread and a leek and goat’s curd tart, a side of charred broccolini in miso. Dessert, Clark had been told, would be a blueberry pavlova. Bruce reacted to the presented largesse with indifference, picking at a portion, his plate pushed to the right of a laptop. 

“On the contrary, convoluted plans appear to be the norm for certain people in Gotham,” Clark said.

“Are you lumping me in with criminal psychopaths?” Bruce asked, his eyes glued to his emails. 

“Your words, not mine.” 

Bruce’s mouth curled up into a tight smirk. “I’d admit the latter, maybe.”

“You’re not a psychopath.” 

Bruce made a dismissive gesture that ended in him stabbing a chunk of lamb. “Because there’s no such psychiatric diagnosis or because you’re making an uninformed and subjective observation about my life?” 

“Given that you tried to kill me—”

Bruce held up a finger. “Do you want to go down that train of thought?”

“I was just trying to say that I have a unique angle on the matter, given you tried to kill me and then resurrected me.” 

Bruce sniffed. “Team effort. For the second.” He curled his lip, eating the speared chunk, chewing slowly. “What convinced you?”

“The finance desk. It went through all the records your secretary handed over and concluded that the philanthropic restructure is genuine.” 

“Not like all the other rich bastards like Dorsey, who say they’re paying out millions to causes but shunt them into their initiatives? Hah. My accountants tried to tempt me.” 

“Must have been an interesting conversation.” 

“I fired them.” Bruce gestured at Clark’s phone with his fork. “You can put that in your next article.” 

“I’ve told you, I’m not here to write PR pieces for Wayne Enterprises,” Clark said, irritated until he caught the faint twitch of Bruce’s mouth as Bruce cut himself another slice of the tart. 

“You should be. I own the Daily Planet. Did you want to talk about something? Or are you just here for the free food?” 

“I like talking to you,” Clark said before his brain could catch up with his mouth. He reddened. 

Bruce didn’t appear to notice, his eyes still glued to his laptop. “Yeah, right. No one likes talking to me. Not even Alfred. I tend to raise his blood pressure.” 

“That can’t be true. You’re surrounded by people all the time.”

“People like talking to my money. Not the same.” Bruce set down his fork and began to compose an email. “What’s the real reason?” 

“I… it’s what it is,” Clark said. That got Bruce to glance up at him and frown for a moment before turning back to the emails. 

“Oh? Maybe you should see a psychiatrist.” 

Clark laughed, startled. “What? You think anyone who might enjoy your company just for the sake of it has to be mentally ill?” 

“You died and came back to life. If you aren’t already in therapy, you should be.” 

“You’re avoiding the question,” Clark said. Bruce’s heart rate picked up, though his expression didn’t change. “Don’t you have real friends?”

Clark’s enhanced hearing picked up the sound of a faint snort from the hallway. Bruce glanced behind him, then back at the keyboard. “ _You’re_ not my therapist.” 

“You’re in therapy?”

“Since I was a child, yes.” Bruce drank a sip of his wine. “Jury’s out whether it worked.” 

“I rather doubt it,” Clark said. He grinned as Bruce glanced up sharply. 

“Funny,” Bruce said after a pause. “All right, Kent. What do you want to talk about? The weather?” 

“Clark,” Clark said.

“Hm?”

“Shouldn’t we be on a first-name basis by now?” 

Bruce pursed his lips. For a moment, Clark thought Bruce would let out one of his harsh, ugly laughs and change the subject. He looked tempted. Instead, Bruce sniffed and kept typing. “Clark it is.”

#

“Kind of derivative, but it’ll do for now,” said the young woman in costume. Pointy ears, no cape. Leather jacket instead of an armoured suit. Beside Clark, Bruce radiated disapproval, his arms folded.

“No one’s going to mistake you for me. You might as well wear another costume,” Bruce said.

“Nah, I’m a fan of staying on brand,” Kate said, her red mouth curled into a familiar smirk. “See you later, cousin. Kent, thanks for holding the fort and all that. Talk later… oh! Wait. Are you still in contact with Diana Prince?” 

“Yes? Why? She’s busy right now with something at home, but I can get in touch if I need to,” Clark said, concerned. “Or I can help you myself.” 

“Oh, no. Nothing you could help with. Just. Pass me her number whenever, if there’s such a thing,” Kate said. 

“What’s the matter?” Bruce asked, frowning at her. “You’re already in trouble? You can trust Clark.” 

“It’s not _trouble_ , it’s. Well.” Kate looked curiously at Bruce. “It never occurred to you?”

“What?” Bruce growled. 

“An island full of powerful, muscular, bi or lesbian women—” 

“I’ll stop you there,” Bruce said, rubbing his temple and holding up a hand. “No. No, no.” 

“I wasn’t asking for _your_ opinion. I kinda miss the days when you were pretending to be some sort of free love playboy. This new you has a serious stick up the ass. Maybe you could help,” Kate told Clark, grinning. 

To his horror, Clark blushed. “Me? What? I?” 

“Fuck off,” Bruce said, scowling, and glared at Kate until she laughed and did just that, zipping away into the night with a grapple. “I’m starting to regret calling her in.” 

“If Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy have teamed up, you’d need her.” 

“I know. Doesn’t mean I don’t have regrets.” Bruce looked keenly at Clark. “Don’t let her get under your skin.” 

_It’s you who’s gotten under my skin_ , Clark wanted to say. “I’m not.” 

“I guess you’re off the hook,” Bruce said, walking down the alley to Alfred and the waiting car. “Thanks for the mostly glowing press.” 

“Bruce,” Clark said. As Bruce stopped and glanced over, Clark swallowed. “I… look. I never. Got around to thanking you for the house.” 

“Don’t worry about it. Turns out that was a fuck up on my part. Should’ve just bought out your house and not the goddamned bank. My lawyers and accountants had a field day with the legalities.”

“That’s what you get for trying to indulge your sense of drama.” 

“So I’ve been told. In nicer words. Don’t worry about the house; it’s yours.” 

“Uh, so. Maybe. Dinner? My treat?” 

Bruce tilted his head. “What brought that on?” 

“Well, the house, and helping to resurrect me, and all the advice so far and—”

“If you want to go on a date, Clark,” Bruce said slowly, with a faint quirk to his mouth, “just say so.” 

“Ah. Yes. Right. A date.” Clark coughed. “Please?” 

“There’s a decent pasta bar down the block. We’ll walk.”

#

“It’s been what, four months now?” Kate asked after the ringleaders had been rounded up and handed to the police. She hadn’t asked for Clark’s help—he’d just happened to be in Gotham.

“Since you’ve been the Batwoman? I think so. Looks like it’s working out? You’ve even repaired your predecessor’s relationship with the police,” Clark said. They watched cop cars flash blue and red strobes on the concrete below, fanning out to gather what evidence remained.

“I didn’t mean that. I mean you and my cousin.” 

“I’ve known him for longer than four months.” 

“Don’t be deliberately obtuse. The cute farmboy act might work on Bruce. It doesn’t on me.” Kate sat down on the edge of the building, dangling her legs out into the air. “Y’all still dating?” 

“Technically, yes.”

“What do you mean, technically? Oh. Because of that reporter? What’s her name, Lois Lane?”

“Lois and I didn’t work out. It’s not really… well, other than the first time, the rest have just been me coming by for dinner whenever he’s free.” 

“Done the thing?” Kate made a puzzling gesture. “Sex.”

“ _No_.” Clark yelped.

“Jesus, okay. No need to glare. Because of alien biology or? Condoms don’t work on you? Or would you give humans a rash? Worse than a rash?” 

“Please don’t,” Clark said weakly, sitting down beside her. “No, it’s nothing like that. I just. You know what your cousin’s like. I’m afraid of pissing him off.”

“You’ve done it before,” Kate pointed out. “He tried to kill you. Can’t get more pissed off than that. Everything from that point on’s a positive reaction.” 

“Maybe I’m afraid of rejection.”

“Have you seen his dating history? Please.” 

“That was before,” Clark said. 

“Before what? Come on. You’ve been dating for months. That’s not normal for Bruce. Doesn’t that mean something?” 

“He still deflects most serious questions.” 

“So ask him. When he’s not in a position to deflect. Are you sure it’s not a sex thing? I mean, more power to you if that’s not your jam, but—”

“Kate.” 

“I’m going to have to stage an intervention at this rate.”

“…Please don’t.”

#

“Bruce, I want to talk about us going official.”

“Is this the right fucking time?” Bruce grit out, only to melt against the sheets and groan as Clark pushed carefully deeper. Wedged inside the tight heat of Bruce’s body, it was good to be able to cheat. To hear how Bruce’s heart picked up whenever Clark bit down lightly over his throat, whenever he lifted Bruce’s weight with a single palm against the small of his back. To hear the gasps Bruce tried to swallow, to see exactly where he had to move to reach the best possible angle. Clark hooked his arm under one of Bruce’s thighs, spreading him wider. 

“You wouldn’t want to talk about it at any other time,” Clark said as he moved. “Kate suggested it.”

“That you try talking to me when we’re in bed instead of over a drink like normal people?” Bruce said, incredulous. “That’s it. I’m disinheriting her.” 

“Well, not in so many words,” Clark said, chuckling as he rolled his hips and watched Bruce claw at the sheets with a hiss. “Don’t. You need her.” 

“Don’t need her this much. Shit. Harder.” 

“We’ve been dating for months now, and I’d—”

“God _damn_ it, Kent!” 

“—really rather have a more definite answer,” Clark said, holding Bruce’s hips down. He grinned as Bruce cursed and clawed at his arms. Blunt human nails left no marks on his skin. “Don’t do that; you’d hurt yourself.” 

“I’m going to fucking hurt _you_ if you don’t move,” Bruce snarled. 

“That’s improbable given the tools you have at hand.”

“You’re… you’re enjoying this,” Bruce accused him, squirming. “Sadist.” 

“I’m a pragmatist. And an optimist.” Clark smiled, kissing down Bruce’s chest as Bruce cursed and growled, fists clenching tight over Clark’s shoulders. “There are several reasons why we should be officially dating. Firstly—”

“You…” was as far as Bruce’s indignation got before something gave way, under the outrage and lust and disbelief. Bruce turned his face against the pillow, his body shaking with helpless laughter. He grabbed another pillow to cover his face. As Clark pulled it away, Bruce tossed it to his free hand, then smacked Clark on the shoulder with it. They laughed together, pressed close, Clark bending all his senses to the mirth thrumming through Bruce, to the warmth of him, to his heartbeat. 

“Fine,” Bruce muttered into Clark’s ear as he calmed. “Official. Happy now?” 

“I was hoping for more enthusiasm,” Clark said without budging, and chuckled as Bruce slapped him on the ribs and snarled.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: @manic_intent  
> prompt policy: manic-intent.tumblr.com  
> \---
> 
> Refs:  
> https://sf.curbed.com/2020/4/30/21241539/sf-billionaires-donations-coronavirus-dorsey-benioff  
> I’m actually not familiar with Kate Kane, nor have I watched the Batwoman TV Show yet, so :3 Artistic license?


End file.
